


Meandering stones

by Inky_Scribbles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Autism, Autistic Kageyama Tobio, Autistic Shimizu Kiyoko, Bonding, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Kinda?, Late Night Conversations, Pre-Spring Tournament, Shimizu Kiyoko-centric, autistic characters, well its not exactly late i guess, well they're autistic coded so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Scribbles/pseuds/Inky_Scribbles
Summary: She takes one last breath. “Sorry, what I meant was, I think you might be autistic. Which would be great, because I am, too.”She lets him take his time, just like he had for her. Just the way people never let them do, when they’re talking. His face is still frozen, when he turns to look at her, half of his cheek cast in shadow. “You… too?”//Shimizu has been noticing some things about Kageyama. It's about time she brought it up.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio & Shimizu Kiyoko
Comments: 18
Kudos: 389
Collections: Autistic Spectrum Fic





	Meandering stones

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the latest episode. Can't believe Shimizu has been autistic-coded this whole time and I didn't notice... so I decided to write this. Also born from my sizable want to know an older autistic person. It gets kinda lonely, not knowing anyone. And someone with experience would be nice, I guess, lol.
> 
> Short, obviously, but I'm pretty pleased with it I guess. I wrote it in the middle of the day for once, which is kinda weird, ngl. I usually only write at nighttime. 
> 
> Also, this is Not shipping, just to be clear, lol.

“One more!” Hinata calls, chest heaving, grin wide. “Just one more.”

Kageyama looks like he wants to hide his grin, but it slips out anyway. “One more,” he confirms, like he has been for the past half an hour. They line up at the court again, Hinata’s hands spinning the ball between his palms absentmindedly. Then, it’s in the air, and he’s running.

Daichi had asked her to stay behind and watch over the first years, so that’s what she’s doing. It’s a little late, but her parents won’t mind too much. And anyway, she has her own motives for staying behind. She’ll stop them before it gets too dark.

The quick is… really quick. It’s fast, over in a matter of seconds, but somehow they pull it off. Hinata in the air, Kageyama’s hands folded around the ball - and then it’s on the other side of the net, bouncing off the floor. His sets are incredibly elegant, but that’s not the part that catches her eye.

It’s something she’s seen him do, countless times. Almost every time they successfully get the quick off - since they’ve been synching up again after their argument. And even before that, since they were first getting the hang of the quick.

His hands go up, happily - excitedly - because they just pulled off something that looks amazing, and it must feel amazing, too. She imagines herself leaping over a hurdle the first time it had gone well, and thinks it might be a little like that. His hands shake, for a moment, fingers dancing up and down like leaves quivering in a start-and-stop wind. Blinded by the joy that must be thrumming through him. And then...

A blink of fear dashes across his face, and he clenches his hands into knotted fists. The excitement barely fades from his expression, a smile only just contained behind the cage of his teeth. He hardly notices his mistake, or at least, that’s what it looks like.

But Kiyoko does. Because it’s a familiar movement, the hidden gesture - going for the fist pump instead. It looks natural, just about - but she can tell he’s going for something else. He doesn’t naturally show his joy by clenching his fist. It’s something else, and she has a feeling she knows what it is.

“Alright,” she says, glancing at the clock, even though she already knows what time it is. “Time to wrap up.”

They frown at each other, but do as she says. She helps Kageyama put the net away while Hinata sweeps the floor. As they’re folding it up, her hand brushes his, and Kageyama pulls away. She scratches the place on her hand where he touched it, and something squeezes in his expression. “Sorry,” he mutters, and they put it away.

They go up to the club room to change, while she waits at the gates. The spring tournament is coming up, and she wants to have this conversation before then. Just in case.

No time like the present.

Hinata comes bounding down towards the gates, bike in hand, Kageyama at his side. They’re not talking, but Hinata’s smile is bright, and Kageyama seems pleased with himself, eyes lingering at his hands, like he can’t believe he’s doing well. It’s a little cute.

Hinata greets her with an extra large bound, the front wheel of his bike lifting off the ground just slightly. “Shimizu-senpai! Do you want us to walk you home?”

She smiles. “No, no. I thought I’d walk you two home.”

“But I live way away!” That’s what she’d been banking on. Time alone with Kageyama, that is.

“Then I’ll walk you part of the way, at least.” Her eyes slide to Kageyama’s, but he’s staring off into space, fingers entangled with each other. “I can walk you home, if you would like, Kageyama?”

He stirs back into himself, a confused frown slipping onto his face. “Uh…”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Shimizu-senpai is walking us home.”

His gaze flickers to her face, then back to Hinata, and then down the street. “Okay.”

So she walks them home, until Hinata hops on his bike and tells them he’s headed up the mountain. She waves goodbye, and Kageyama grunts in his direction, and then it’s just them.

His face is blank, but not in a harsh, closed off kind of way. Just… openly blank. She’s fairly certain it’s the look he gets when he’s not worrying or feeling hungry - he’s thinking, that’s all. She has no idea what he’s thinking about, though.

She quickly goes through one last time how she’s planned out this conversation (because of course she has it planned out. In part thanks to Suga’s helpful advice - not that he’d been aware that he was giving her advice at the time). She takes a breath, takes a moment to reassure herself that it will be fine; she’s covered the basics of how it’s going to go - she knows how to do it.

First, a small talk opener. She’s not a huge fan of this step, and Kageyama probably isn’t either. But this is how Suga always does it, so hopefully it’ll work out. “Do you live far from here?”

At first, it looks like he hasn’t heard her, and she feels the steam dissipate from within her, cogs winding down to a stop. Maybe she’ll just try again another day.

Then, his eyes flit over to her, and he mumbles something. Almost quiet enough that she doesn’t catch it. “Uh… about twenty five minutes from here…” He must live in the next town over, then. That’s alright, she can spare some extra time.

Okay, past step one. Now she needs to broach the subject. Usually, Suga does it seamlessly - you barely even notice that you’re talking about something sensitive, when it’s with him. But she’s nothing like Suga, so she’s going to have to improvise.

“There was something I needed to talk to you about.” he nods, face pulling upwards in that way it does when they’re about to talk about volleyball. Hopefully, this won’t disappoint him too much. She’s invested in the upcoming games, just like everyone else - in fact, she’s started work on that project with Yachi, already - but that’s not what she’s here to talk about. “I’ve been noticing some things about you.”

Wait, no, that hadn’t been in the plan. Bad - that’s bad. This is not going as well as she’d hoped.

Kageyama looks curious, but he doesn’t ask just yet, which is good, because she needs to find a way to unstick her lips from each other. That sounds nothing like how she had intended - and nothing like how she’d planned out in her head. 

But he doesn’t seem too bothered by the strange wording - so maybe she’d just overreacted, and it wasn’t strange. But it does sound a lot like she’s been spying on him, or something. Right? God, this is why she doesn’t like making friends.

She takes a few moments to breathe, watching their shadows wind around them like clockwork as they walk under the periodic street lamps. It’s still not terribly dark, compared to how late Yachi usually stays with them, so the last flimsy rays of sun are still tucking themselves away behind a mountain. It’s… mostly quiet, really. That’s what she likes best about living out here. Vacationing in cities has never been her most favourite thing.

She takes one last breath. “Sorry, what I meant was, I think you might be autistic. Which would be great, because I am, too.”

He freezes where he stands, and she slows to a stop a few paces away. He looks almost like he’s panicking - his breathing is stopped, his fists are frozen at his sides like they’ve been tied there - but his face is that furious blank she remembers from before. Not angry, exactly, but blank like he’s thinking too hard and too furiously for his expression to catch up.

She lets him take his time, just like he had for her. Just the way people never let them do, when they’re talking and desperate to catch up. His face is still frozen, when he turns to look at her, half of his cheek cast in shadow. “You… too?”

When she nods, it’s like the strings holding him still have been cut, and he slumps, falling into a curled over position like it hurts to stand tall and straight. And it might, because she knows exactly how it is to put yourself out there, to be the only one in a room of everyone else. Because that’s exactly how it feels - the strings might be holding you up, but they’re tight like nooses, and they only ever let go when you’re on your own.

“I’m…” his face folds into something, then branches out again - like origami. “I’m Kageyama Tobio,” he says, voice small, like he’s waiting for her to judge him. She already knows his name, after all. But that’s not the point of it.

“I’m Shimizu Kiyoko,” she returns. And that’s about as far as it needs to go.

His head rises, a smile fiddling with the corners of his lips - stop, start, stop, start. Then, almost purposefully, he raises a hand, and it starts to flap; up and down, rhythmic and moderately paced. Easy and slow.

She raises her own hand, returns the gesture. And his smile is small, but it’s so brightly pleased that she can’t help but return it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
